


Of Kittens and Dragons

by hecatesfamiliar



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Dragons, Gen, Hecate Hardbroom is a little ball of angst, She wants a Familiar, Shes so smol, Tiny Hecate, Troubling home situation, she's sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 21:30:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14410941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hecatesfamiliar/pseuds/hecatesfamiliar
Summary: Mkay, so I read the answer to a question which i think was by amillionmillionvoices on tumblr and i haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.. it was about Hecate with a dragon. Summary: Smol Hecate hasn't made many friends at school, so waiting to be paired with her familiar shes very excited, however things take an unexpected turn.. maybe a bit angsty in places.





	1. Chapter 1

Summary: Hecate meets her familiar… 

Hecate had been waiting for this day for as long as she could remember, the day she would be paired with her familiar, a kindred spirit for life. She had fond memories from her infancy of hiding under the kitchen table waiting for her mother to finish cooking something she could almost remember the comforting smell of, and while she was waiting she would unwittingly terrorise her mother’s cat with too-tight cuddles, leaving her tiny toddler fists full of black fur as the cat skulked away. Alas, her mother had been gone a long time and with her Seren, her loyal companion, and Hecate’s fond memories.   
As Hecate stood at the back of the gaggle of young witches waiting to greet their familiars. The idea of an unconditional friend, although in the form of a cat, seemed very attractive to her as she had found it really rather difficult in her first few weeks at school to interact with anyone of a more human disposition. Being one of the tallest in her year, she could see over the tops of some of their heads as girl after girl left the room, each time with a new kitten in her arms.  
‘She just jumped into my arms!’, exclaimed one to her friends.   
This was particularly interesting to Hecate, as it confirmed what she had read about familiars choosing the witch rather than the other way around.   
As the day went on, the queue dwindled down until finally it was Hecate’s turn. She pushed open the heavy wooden door quietly so as not to startle the little things. It was as much as she could do not to let out a very uncharacteristic squeal as she saw the tiny kittens curled up in their baskets, nothing made her as excited as animals, she found she understood them better than people, way less complicated. What she did not understand, however was the complete lack of interest these particular animals were showing her. She hadn’t expected her familiar to reveal itself straight away but none of them had even turned a head in her direction.   
She crept over to kneel next to some of the more active among the litters, they had been playing with some string. Hecate smiled and reached out a hand to join in the game yet was warded off with a tiny hiss. No matter how tiny and actually quite adorable the hiss had been Hecate understood the sign and left them to play. She must have been in there for a good half an hour when a disgruntled teacher poked her head around the door.  
‘What’s going on in there?!’ she barked ‘Hurry up Hecate Hardbroom you should have been chosen before now!’, she swung the door fully open and filled the door frame with her enormous figure, looming over Hecate.   
‘Yes, Mistress Broomhead, of course’, garbled Hecate as she panicked, what if she didn’t get chosen? What if none of the familiars wanted her? What if she wasn’t worthy of a cat. She quickly tried to shake off the feelings of self-doubt which rang in her ears and in her panic, pressured by Mistress Broomhead, she scooped up the kitten nearest to her, hoping for the best. It was not to be however, as the kitten in question objected strongly to being handled by Hecate and gave her her second hiss of the day accompanied by a swipe to the face. Hecate gasped and released her hold on the little kitten as claw connected to skin. She clapped her hand to her stinging cheek, when she pulled it away she saw that blood had been drawn and was now mixing with the saltiness of her tears.  
‘It’s just a scratch girl! No need to turn on the waterworks!’, said Mistress Broomhead sternly, ‘out with you now, back to your room, it seems you shan’t be meeting your familiar today’.   
She wasn’t crying because of the pain, or even the shock. But because of the resurgence of the feeling of rejection that she would usually associate with humans and the embarrassment and shame as she nodded in defeat to Mistress Boomhead and made the solitary journey past her remaining peers back to her room. Empty handed, empty hearted.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:   
Hecate usually walked with such purpose to her lessons, never one to dawdle in corridors, people tended to move themselves out of her path. Today however, she lagged behind with tentative steps, hugging her books to her chest. As she made her way through the winding corridors of the old castle towards her potions class, she felt the eyes of her peers burning into her skin. News of the witch without a cat had spread quickly, beyond her year group and to the girls in the years above.   
‘I heard that even the cats wouldn’t be friendly with her’, hissed Fenella Fenwick to a group of about 5 other witches who all sniggered at the sentiment.   
‘Yeah, whoever heard of a witch without a cat... .’   
‘… Maybe the familiars could sense that she’s not a real witch’.  
‘Oh, and apparently she actually threw one of the poor defenceless kittens when it didn’t choose her’.  
‘I heard Mistress Broomhead is going to expel her...’.   
She was almost in tears by the time she reached her class, so was glad that there was no one there yet, true to form Hecate liked to arrive early to guarantee herself her seat at the front bench. She had been quite looking forward to this class as she knew she didn’t need a cat to brew a potion.   
The class was simple enough, the girls were instructed to brew a levitation potion which Hecate had of course read about before, so she knew the ins-and-outs and brewed the perfect potion all by herself. She actually preferred to work alone, it had nothing to do with the fact that there had been an odd number of girls and she had been left without a cauldron partner, no, Hecate had grown up an only child and so was used to not discussing what she was chopping, or squashing or adding or mixing. In fact she found it to be way more efficient this way.  
When the cauldrons had been cleared away and all the potions tested, their teacher, Miss Winterbottom congratulated Hecate on her exemplary brew. Then gestured to the new familiars, some of which, with the absence of any training, had begun to explore the laboratory.   
‘I see you have all been assigned your familiars’ she said, causing Hecate’s eyes to fall to the floor..  
She began explaining how in the future they could begin to use their familiars when collecting ingredients for potions. This stirred a memory in Hecate of her mother in the vast gardens back at the manor. She grew all kinds of rare and exotic herbs and plants, some in kitchen gardens and some in greenhouses, Hecate remembered how her mother’s cat, Seren, always knew which herb was which and exactly where to each one in the many rows, she would mewl in guiding her mistress’ hand to just the right head of verbena. She knew it was stupid but she had thought that having a cat of her own would have helped her feel a little closer to her mother who had loved her companion until.. Well... until she couldn’t anymore. Hecate quickly shook herself out of the memory as her classmates began to file past her out of the room, she picked up her books and satchel and followed on behind them, eyes still to the floor.   
‘Miss Hardbroom’, her teacher’s voice startled her and she whirled round, ‘I heard about what happened yesterday with the familiars, are you okay?’   
Hecate blinked in mild confusion, people seldom asked her about her feelings, ‘yes, fine Mistress Winterbottom’, she lied.   
‘Yes, it is most uncommon for that to happen, but not unheard of, don’t worry… In fact’, Mistress Winterbottom continued, ‘I think I have a book somewhere’. The older witch busied herself at the bookshelf searching for the volume she required whilst Hecate waited attentively. Eventually she pulled a dusty old book, bound with leather from the rickety shelf. The Witch’s Familiar by Enid Everidge. ‘Here we are, have a look through this, you might find it interesting’, she said placing the book on top of the stack Hecate already held. ‘You know, familiars aren’t always assigned at school’, she looked up at her teacher, ‘No, sometimes they do just turn up, as if out of thin air, sometimes when one least expects it, sometimes when one needs it most’.  
Hecate nodded in quiet understanding, ‘thank you I shall make sure, return this to you as soon as I’ve read it ’, and she turned to leave.   
‘Hecate-‘, she flinched at the use of her first name and turned to look at her teacher once more, her eyes were kinder than Hecate had seen them before, almost knowing, ‘you know where I am if you have any questions’.   
Hecate gave her a smile in thanks, nodded and made her way to her next class.

When the day of classes, stares and sniggers was over, Hecate closed the door to her little room and let out a deep sigh of relief, she was safe in her room, with its stone walls and big wooden door. She didn’t have many home comforts, just a knitted patchwork blanket, the rest of her possessions were mostly books. As she settled herself into bed, she let down her hair from its tight confines so that it fell into two loose pigtails which hung past her shoulders almost to her waist and pulled put the book Miss Winterbottom had given her earlier that day. She skimmed the contents page to find a section which she could apply to her situation before deciding that it would probably be best to read it from cover to cover. She read first about this history of familiars and was surprised to learn that not all spirit guides had to be physical entities, she made sure to note that down.  
She also read more about what Mistress Winterbottom had said, familiars may reveal themselves at any given moment, they are not necessarily assigned or purchased by a young witch or wizard, rather seek out a master based on mutual need. Hecate furrowed her brow (something that her father had told her was unbecoming of a young woman and that she would be a wrinkled old hag by the time she reached her thirties) she had felt that she needed one of those kittens.   
She flicked through page after page, admiring the medieval style drawings of the various animals until one in particular caught her eye. She had learned that the most common familiars to be kept by magical people were cats, rats, toads and owls, however this drawing, which was finished with gold leaf, showed a powerful witch with raven hair not unlike her own. In the picture she was casting a spell which seemed to allow her to control flames as she was manipulating fire to surround her and her familiar without them being burned. Her familiar was a dragon which stood beside her, her protector, wings outstretched ready to do battle for its mistress. Hecate ran her fingers over the beautiful illustration, as if trying to absorb it. She of course knew that dragons existed or had existed but had never heard nor read an account from someone who had seen one, at least not someone who had been alive in the past century. She sighed and turned the page with her assumption that dragons were most likely extinct.   
She must have been reading for hours when Mistress Broomhead’s voice booming from in the corridor startled her, ‘lights out, girls’!   
Hecate bookmarked her page, she was never one to bend pages, especially not in a book that was so ancient, in fact she detested the practice. She tucked the book under her pillow and blew out her candle, letting the darkness carry her off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Of kittens and dragons chapter 3

It was still dark outside when Hecate woke up one Saturday morning. Winter had begun to set in at the academy and those November days were some of her favourites, when the days were short and the darkness seemed perpetual. When the ground became hard under foot and the trees were bare. Something about that time of year made her feel so much more in tune with her magic, so much more… Witchy.  
Hecate crept across her small box room and pulled back the grey curtain, she had willingly accepted the smallest room on the corridor, just glad of the space, however small, that was truly safe, truly her own. outside it was just beginning to come light and it looked like it was going to be one of those rare, crisp, dry days where you could see your own breath in front of you and every witch knows that those types of days are perfect for gathering potion materials, especially this early when the drops of morning dew still lingered on leaves and on the grass.  
Hecate smiled at the perfect conditions and dressed quickly, not a moment to lose. She pulled on her boots and loosely tied the laces, then she packed her satchel with her notebook and quill, just in case she needed to document any particularly interesting plants. She still preferred the use of a quill although a few of her classmates who had come from non-magical families had attempted to introduce the rest of the girls to biro pens, a concept Hecate found very improper. She also packed a few glass vails and an apple. She knew better than to go into the woods without at least some sustenance.  
She slipped silently out of the castle and made her way across the grounds to the entrance of the forest. Hecate felt at home in the forest, she felt like she could be happy there, and just exist among the trees that had stood for centuries, she felt she knew her place. She loved the feel of the forest around her, the smell of the wood and of the dew, the feel of the winter sun which peeped through shadowy boughs and warmed her face.  
Somewhere deep in the forest Hecate stopped and bent down to inspect a burdock plant. She began carefully extracting it from the ground when she heard a troubling noise coming from somewhere behind her; a snap of twigs a rustle of dry, dead leaves. He stood up and turned around to attempt so detect where the sound had come from.. ‘Hello?’, She called. Hecate knew very well that these woods were perfectly safe and had been for hundreds of years. She huffed to herself, knowing that if she gave the noise any further investigation it would only provide satisfaction to her cruel classmates who she was sure were watching her from amongst the ferns, and would surely jump out and taunt her if she approached.  
She turned back to her plant, discarding some of the leaves and pulling it up so that the root was fully exposed. She was still acutely aware of the fact that she was being watched, it made her ears flame red and the hair on the back of her neck stand up, underneath her cloak her skin felt prickly and agitated as her magic bubbled to the surface, ready to hit back at the group of sniggering witches who has intruded on her sacred time. Hecate whipped round, ‘Fenella! I know you’re there!’ Hecate shouted, eyes blazing. She was met with only silence. ‘Come out! What’s wrong? Scared I’ll beat you in a duel?’ Hecate saw the leaves rustle this time, she squinted and ducked to get a better look at the perpetrator. A pair of yellow eyes met her own, they certainly didn’t belong to Fenella Fenwick. Hecate gasped and moved away but was betrayed by her bootlaces and fell backwards onto the forest floor.  
Her eyes widened in fear and disbelief as she saw what emerged from the leaves. Although it stood no bigger than a Labrador, perhaps only a baby, it had black scaled feet with talons as long as Hecate’s fingers. Sharp teeth protruding from a long snout. Those yellow eyes looking right at her. Despite her initial disbelief, there was no doubt that this creature was a dragon. Hecate curled herself into a ball, making herself as small as she possibly could she closed her eyes, certain she had drawn her last breath. Then she drew another breath, and another. She opened one eye and rather than seeing the white light one so often hears about when referencing death, she saw the forest floor. Her heart pounded as she opened her other eye and looked around. Nothing. She sat up, her breathing ragged from fear, she was now face to face with the creature, it sat in front of her like a dog would. Hecate gasped again, closed her eyes and turned her face away, away from the yellow gaze, the razor teeth. Still nothing. Surely if this dragon wanted to maul her, it would have done so by now… Unless it was playing with its prey.  
She turned back to face it, she didn’t dare look it in the eyes though, she bowed her head and as she did so she noticed that the dragon was not just black, but its scales, which seemed like an onyx armour were also flecked with violet which ombréed to its underbelly which was much lighter.  
It held out a scaly, three-digited foot to her, the movement made Hecate flinch slightly. She looked at the foot with its black scales and thorny nails seemingly made of obsidian and she noticed that it was soaked with a wine coloured liquid. Dragon’s blood. ‘Oh’, Hecate suddenly realised the creature’s predicament, ‘you’re in pain’,she said quietly and calmly as her brown eyed met topaz ones once more, they seemed to be pleading with her. ‘Ok, let’s look’, she said reassuringly. It didn’t take her long to find the problem; a particularly vicious looking spike which may have been left behind by a hunter to catch forest creatures many years ago before the academy had bought the forest. ‘Okay,’ she whispered, ‘I’m going to have to try and pull it out’. She wiggled the metal object which caused her patient to growl in turn causing Hecate to pull back in fear. ‘Shhhh’, Hecate cooed, ‘Sorry, this might hurt’. She held the flesh around the spike and pulled, leaving a large wound in the dragon’s foot, between two of its toes. Hecate cast a cleansing spell and looked into her bag for something to bandage the foot with. Drawing a blank, she resolved to tear the sleeve of her shirt and use it to stop the bleeding, however the dragon had taken more interest in the apple which was still left in her Satchel. ‘Oh, are you hungry? Here’, she said extending the apple to her new friend. Huge jaws came towards her and she dropped the apple before they reached her hand, they would surely have taken it off otherwise.  
Hecate packed up her satchel, burdock root and all as the dragon munched contentedly on Hecate’s snack. ‘I should be getting back’, she said. ‘I don’t think I want to be around when your mother figures out you’re missing! Goodbye little one’, Hecate turned to follow her path back and was surprised to hear footsteps behind her. It didn’t take her long to realise that her new friend was following her. ‘No, stay here, I can’t take you back to the castle, dragons aren’t authorised pets!’ The realisation came over her all of a sudden, she remembered what she had read in the book her tutor had given to her, about how one could come across a familiar anywhere. She remembered the drawing of the witch in the fire with her dragon, her familiar. ‘Is it you?’


End file.
